


The cat and the prophet

by Fleur_de_Violette



Series: The cat and the bats [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alfred the Cat being a cat, Barbara Gordon is thinking too much, Gen, Knitting, Mention of Canonical Character Death, Mention of canonical fake character death, Other Characters Are Mentioned, Reflection, but everyone is alive again, kinda sad but happy ending, mention of canonical gunshot wound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:14:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23187595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fleur_de_Violette/pseuds/Fleur_de_Violette
Summary: Barbara had decided to spend the day before a dinner at the manor, and Alfred the Cat had just dropped wool gloves on her lap, as a gift.She hadn’t meant to let her mind wander this far.
Relationships: Barbara Gordon & Alfred the Cat
Series: The cat and the bats [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1648072
Kudos: 12





	The cat and the prophet

**Author's Note:**

> Hi ! This is the second part of the people and Alfred the Cat stories. This one is a little sadder than the first one, I hope you’ll enjoy it nonetheless. Also the timeline is absolutely not correct and I know this but also I do whatever I want. So Babs is Oracle in this but the whole “everyone think Dick is dead” and then “everyone think Tim is dead” had happened for the need of the story. At the point this story takes place everyone is alive again. That being clarified, enjoy the fic !

Alfred the Cat just offered Barbara gloves. Nice, cream colored wool gloves that, if she recalled correctly (and, let’s be honest, when didn’t she?) were Tim’s. Why were the gloves in the manor, in easy reach for the cat, in the middle of spring, she has no idea. But, the thing is, the cat just entered the room with the gloves in his mouth, made a beeline for her, jumped on the closest furniture and deposed the item, clearly meant to be a present, on her lap. 

Alfred the Human also offered her gloves once. Fine leather gloves with discreet flowers painted on them. That was when she was batgirl and Dick was Robin. It seemed like another lifetime now. She had wanted to repay him with a gift, but she knew she would never be able to afford such luxury, so she had decided to try and knit gloves because handmade gifts always made someone happy, and how hard could it be ? 

Turn out, knitting gloves had been harder than she thought. After a few infructuous attempts, she had to resign herself to buy the man some tea instead, hiding her failed gloves in her room. Unfortunately for her, Dick, even as a teenager, was a good detective and never backed down for teasing material. She had dared him to do better and he turned out with perfectly knitted gloves for her a week later. She’d been livid a first. Yet another reminder that the stupid boy wander with his stupid short and his stupid boots and his stupid smile could do anything better than her. But, unfortunately for him, she was a damn good detective too. She eventually figured out Alfred had done most of the work, with Dick only working on the easiest parts. She would never stop teasing him about it. 

It wasn’t the last time she knitted. After this incident, with the help of one of her friends and ever-useful internet tutorials, she knitted a few more items. A scarf for herself, then for her dad. Simpler things. She eventually decided to make gloves for Jason, more as a peace offering than anything else. She didn’t really know the kid, but he was weary, and reacted to anyone but Bruce and Alfred with fear powered anger. She bet no one had ever gifted him hand knitted gloves, but that would probably make him happy. 

That was the last thing she knitted. The gloves were never finished, abandoned inside a shelf in her room with sadness and regret and the memory of a kid who never lived long enough to get handmade gloves. Buried with Jason and her childhood innocence. She should have known better than to hope for the best. She should have been prepared for the death of a Robin since the day she first jumped off rooftops with Dick. But, every time she heard that one Robin had fallen, every time she learned about it, Jason and then Steph, and then Damian and then -lies be dammed- Dick, and finally Tim, not once she’s been prepared for it. 

Wasn’t that who she was supposed to be? The one prepared for the future? The all-knowing Oracle, prophet of Delphi? What kind of prophet was she if she couldn’t be prepared and prepare other for the future? 

A silly girl who should have known better than to open the door without looking at the peephole first. 

For years, she considered herself lucky. The gunshot that took her mobility and hunted her night could have taken her life. But the thought that it could have been worse didn’t help her on helpless, lonely nights when she woke up in cold sweat. It didn’t help her when her friends, her family were fighting down the streets and while she knew she helped from the watchtower, the urge to be with them was so strong she cursed all the gods she knew for her fate. What happened to her was unfair. What happened to Jason was unfair. Hell, there wasn’t anyone in this damn manor who deserved what had happened to them. From Bruce’s parents in crime alley to Damian, tough, proud Damian she heard breaking down over a kitten litter he couldn’t save a few nights ago, their lives were a long series of unfair tragedies. 

Alfred the Cat suddenly jumped on her lap, curling up against her stomach with a meowing sound. She forced herself to take a deep breath. Now wasn’t the time to reflect on everything bad that had happened to her and her loved ones. One of her hands went to scratch the cat’s neck, silently thanking him for his “gift”. She would have to give Tim the gloves back eventually. Everyone has been invited for dinner tonight, and for once, she had her day free, so she decided to spend the afternoon in the manor. A bad idea since apparently having too much time in her hands conducted to sad realizations about life. 

She needed another hobby than hacking international organizations and fighting crime. Badly. 

A smile found its way to her lips, one hand still on the cat and the other absently fidgeting with the gloves. She stopped knitting after Jason’s death, but he was back now. Maybe he would even make an appearance tonight, either during the dinner or after, once everyone would be asleep. She knew he was more often in the manor than he would like to let anyone know, after all. He was back and Damian was back, and Bruce, Steph, Dick and Tim were back. She now had a lot of people she cared about.

She couldn’t predict the future, and even if she did her best every night, she probably couldn’t spare them other tragedies. But she could make sure they wouldn’t be cold during the winter. 

She wheeled herself toward the kitchen, the cat jumping down at the movement, warmness leaving her belly, where it was resting on her scar. 

If she recalled correctly, Alfred was a playing cat. And considering he had specifically found woolen gloves to bring her, there was a chance that wool was a favorite of him. But Barbara wasn’t one to turn her back on a challenge. 

“Alfred? Do you by any chance still have wool and knitting needles somewhere?”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed the story; I apologize for any mistakes. Take care of yourself and have a nice day!


End file.
